


Baby It's Cold Outside

by divakat



Category: NCIS
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slash, Tibbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:46:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divakat/pseuds/divakat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs is afraid of being afraid to let go, Tony is afraid of wanting to stay. Both of their boundaries are pushed in the very best ways on a cold night just before Christmas. Cross posted from FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest apologies for the format. You can find this on ff.net in a much easier to read format. The posting options here SUCK and should really be made more user friendly. I COULD add the spacing I used when I wrote this but I really just don't feel like taking the time. Go to ff.net and my MyShame7 account if you're having a hard time. Sincerest apologies!

Tony isn’t familiar with this particular dance.  
It’s been a not-unusual night of beers, steaks, wood, and the last quarter of a random game that neither one paid close attention to. But Gibbs has been stalling him for the last half hour, heading him off before he can get out his ‘good-night’, shutting him up with another knee-weakening kiss despite the hour and the agreements they’ve kept since the beginning of this thing they have yet to put a name to.  
No staying over on school nights.  
That one is Tony’s. A practical way to avoid the complications that are guaranteed to ensue when it comes to getting to work on time in the morning, the not-always-easy transition from lover to DiNozzo. Not to mention the entanglements that grow each morning he wakes up with Gibbs wrapped warm and solid and naked around him. The ache that tightens his chest each day he realizes it’s the place he feels like he belongs.  
No sex without staying over.  
That one is Gibbs’. An equally practical way to avoid second guessing Tony’s motivations and the trappings of his own admitted possessiveness. Gibbs doesn’t do just sex, doesn’t do casual. It’s not in his DNA, and he’s never once pretended it is.  
And so weeknights generally leave them at an impasse, enjoying each other’s company and occasionally some heavy petting on the couch, under the boat, up against the kitchen counter, depending on how the mood strikes them. Gibbs starts shutting down around 10, not looking at his watch exactly, but clearly ready for a little solitude. Tony’s usually okay with giving it by around 11, has learned that the extended flirtation of these nights makes for mind-numbing and explosive fucks on the weekends when he doesn’t have to leave, when Gibbs can barely let him in the door before he starts kissing him all hot and needy.  
“I have to go.”  
“No you don’t.”  
“It’s late.”  
“Not that late.”  
“It’s late enough. Have to work tomorrow.”  
“I’ll write you a note.”  
“My boss is a tyrant.”  
Gibbs crowds him up against the wall at this, pushes into his space like it’s suddenly their space, and tugs at the sleeve of the thick woolen coat Tony’s been trying to put on for the last hour, completely nullifying his progress.  
“It’s Christmas Eve.”  
“Not until tomorrow.”  
“In an hour.”  
“I’ll be back tomorrow night and I can stay.”  
“Can keep you busy for another hour tonight.”  
“Then what?”  
Sharp teeth nip at the thin skin covering his collar bone, scrape across the hollow of his throat. Tony is pinned hopelessly between the cool of the plaster and the heat of Gibbs’ body, unwilling to push him off but still uncertain exactly whats crawled inside and taken over his generally stoic lover-partner-whatever.  
“I really need to go.”  
“No.”  
His cock jerks against the warmth of Jethro’s thigh, because this sounds less like a playful argument and more like an order.  
“Need to feed my fish.”  
“They’re fish. They’ll survive.”  
“Get the lady across the hall to feed them on weekends we’re off.”  
“That’s nice.”  
“I’d call her but it’s late.”  
Gibbs’ lips surround his earlobe and tug insistently, suckle and nip and pull until Tony’s practically purring, definitely leaning into Jethro’s mouth when he starts up again.  
“Your car will be cold.”  
“I started it 15 minutes ago.”  
“It’s snowing. Roads will be bad.”  
“More reason to leave now. Beat the worst of it.”  
“Might be snowed in tomorrow.”  
“Only supposed to get an inch.”  
“Forecast could be wrong.”  
“Gibbs.”  
Jethro’s mouth covers his, mutes his objections, muddles his thoughts. The slick of Gibb’s tongue is nudging his lips apart and this feels so much more like the beginning of something than a goodnight kiss. Tony sinks into it, stops thinking of all the reasons why not for just the few moments it takes for Gibbs to go from pressed close to rolling against his hips. Tony has to break away, has to know what this is before they’re both in it over their heads and not just for tonight.  
“Gibbs.”  
“You shouldn’t drive. You’ve been drinking.”  
“Had two beers two hours ago. You know I’m fine.”  
“Have a Bourbon with me.”  
“Jethro.”  
“Stay.”  
“Jethro.”  
Tony pushes this time, isn’t gentle about it either.  
“Stay.”  
Gibbs is looking at him from a foot away now and Tony can see the want below the need in his eyes. Can see that this is about something more than sex and boundaries, more than just about tonight.  
“Stay.”  
“What is this?”  
“This is me asking you to stay.”  
“Why?”  
“You need more of a reason than this?”  
Long fingers trace the outline of his erection through the denim of his jeans.  
“Normally I’d say ‘no’, but from you? What is this, Jethro? Really?” Tony doesn’t push the hand away but doesn’t give in either.  
Gibbs moves close again, eyes searching, uncertain. Not the confident blue Tony’s so used to. “Because I don’t want you to leave.”  
Tony’s on the verge of answering, maybe reminding him of their arrangement but something about the set of Gibbs’ jaw says he isn’t done yet.  
“Because every night that you do, I have to stop myself from running out that fucking door and catching you at your car, even running you down in the street.” The sound of the words is tortured, as if each one is being pulled from his throat. “Because it’s getting harder and harder, Tony, and tonight…tonight I don’t think I would stop.”  
Tony’s silent then. Part unsure he’s heard right, part searching for words, part unable to breathe. He’s right. This isn’t about tonight anymore, isn’t about work, or holidays, snow, or fish.  
“Stay, Tony.”  
“Okay, Jethro.”  
Gibbs’ head comes up from where it’s dropped down and his eyes take a moment to read him, to make sure he knows. The hand at Tony’s hip curls, clasps, trembles just a little.  
It’s Tony’s turn to crowd, Tony’s turn to need, and he closes his lips around Gibbs’ mouth even as he pushes back, lets his coat drop to the floor as they do an odd dance back into the living room. By the time they make it around the corner, Jethro’s sweatshirt is polishing the hardwood, Tony’s belt is tossed into the darkness somewhere.  
Somehow he’s got the presence of mind to press the button on the automatic car starter that will shut it down and hopes like hell the signal is strong enough because there’s no way he’s checking now.  
There’s a brief, unspoken discussion about going upstairs but as Gibbs’ fingers pull at his shirttails, twist to undo the top button on his jeans, swipe against heated skin, it’s clear something a bit more urgent is brewing.  
The room is dark but for the crackle of firelight and the faint glow of multicolored strands that circle the tree Tony all but insisted make an appearance for the holiday. Hand to Gibbs’ chest, he halts him in front of the fireplace, grabs a pillow or two and tosses them randomly on the floor, turns to dig to the very back of a drawer in a side-table, and flings the discrete bottle of lube beside the pillows before searching fingers dip into the waist of his jeans and push.  
Tony lets Gibbs take charge, lets him take whatever it is he’s suddenly discovered he needs from tonight, from tomorrow. Fingertips slide between the holes of his buttons, twist and pull in frustration when they find the thinner material still hiding his skin. The fabric is pushed from his shoulders and his wrists tangle long enough for Jethro to press a string of open mouthed kisses along his jaw.  
Calloused hands shove impatiently at his t-shirt, ghost over his flanks until the cloth is gone, pulled over his head and cast aside. He steps out of the thick denim that has pooled around his ankles, kicks it into the tree where ornaments tinkle and bounce for a few precarious seconds. Something small and wooden hits the floor but neither of them takes time to investigate.  
Gibbs is still infuriatingly clothed but the older man steps out of his reach.  
“Hey. No fair,” Tony objects in the half second before Jethro begins nearly tearing off his own clothes. There is an unfamiliar desperation in his movements, an impulsiveness that he’s never seen in him before tonight. Gibbs is almost done before Tony gives a thought to the boxer briefs still riding his own hips and quickly sheds them, stroking his freed cock a few times while he watches the firelight striptease and wishes he could press pause for just one second.  
To Tony’s dismay and relief, Gibbs does hesitate then, eyes hungrily tracing the lines of his body before gluing themselves to his dick, watching the lazy, twisting strokes with the eyes of something wild and untamed.  
It’s just a few bare seconds with only the heat of the firelight licking their skin but it gives Tony time to watch too. Time to feel his cock twitch as his eyes taste the width of Gibbs’ perfect shoulders, tangle in the thick mat of silver hair at his chest, ghost over the fine cut of his hips. A few bare seconds before Jethro is on him, hands sliding into his hair, body pressing hot and hard, dragging him down, down, knees on the floor, pushing a pillow hastily under his ass as they fall back in a mess of hands, elbows, need, and heat.  
“Gibbs, yes...yes, mmm.” His body takes Jethro’s weight, absorbs his shudders as their cocks meet, hips grind, mouths chase. His fingers somehow find the other pillow, drag it beneath his head to better meet ravenous kisses.  
“Need you.”  
“Yes.”  
“Now.”  
“Yes.”  
Breathless murmurs against his ear that worm inside and slide down his spine to curl his toes. Gibbs’ fingertips scraping his scalp, pulling and twisting the way he likes. A flat palm kissing his nipple, rocking back and forth a few times for good measure. Tony feels the abandonment, feels Gibbs reach, clutch, rock back on his heels.  
Eyes open now, he watches. Watches Jethro watch him, flick open the little bottle like a pro, chest heaving, breath coming short and hard. There will be time to be embarrassed later about the little needy moan he lets loose as Gibbs’ slicks his fingers first, cock second, presses the former against his hole, the later to his thigh. Tony’s legs are pushed back and he grips behind his knees obediently, wiggles his ass a little higher onto the pillow while the fingers move tantalizingly in and out, curl and retreat.  
“Oh my…fuck, Gibbs…fuck.”  
That practiced little twist and curl gets him every time, makes him gasp, makes him beg, and Jethro knows it, keeps at him relentlessly until Tony is fucking himself onto his fingers and clawing at the carpet. Just when it’s almost too much, Gibbs stops, knows his limits intimately, gives him a chance to breathe.  
When Tony can almost form a thought again, it’s instantly driven out by the feel of Jethro’s cock nudging inside, by the sweet stretch and pulse he’s craving like air right now. The man above him curls forward, licks a hot path up his sternum, over his clavicle, catches the backs of Tony’s knees in the curve of his elbows as he slides home. There’s only a moment to adapt, to settle, to lock his ankles behind Jethro’s thighs before they’re moving together, arching, rolling, tilting, grinding, shifting instinctively into the rhythms that they like best, that will not only bring them to the edge but sharpen it.  
Gibbs’ mouth is busy against his shoulder, biting, marking, laving each jutting tendon and bunching muscle. Tony’s hands can’t stop moving, sinking into silver hair, sliding and skating over sweat-slicked skin, lower, lower, fingers sinking into quivering glutes to pull Jethro deeper, harder. His cock is slicking their bellies with each stroke, throbbing in the tight space between them.  
“Soon.”  
“God, yes.”  
“Fuck…Tony.”  
“Make me come. Oh…fuck…wanna come for you, Jethro…only for you…fuck.”  
The amorous mutterings against his ear lose focus, grow desperate. Gibbs is on his palms now, driving hard, hips twisting, pulsing, feeling the heat up his spine, the tremble in his thighs, the heavy drag as his balls draw up close.  
Tony snakes a hand between them, gets off a couple of good pulls before he’s right fucking there.  
“Now…oh fuck, Gibbs, now…please, please, now.”  
The last bit is choked off as his orgasm takes him hard, wraps around his hips, and trades his air for the pleasure flooding his body. It peaks again when Gibbs follows him in a rush of stuttered thrusts and silence, doubles with the hot flood against his insides, the shudders and quakes that just keep coming.  
Gibbs comes down in a controlled collapse, rolling them half on their sides even as he makes sure to keep Tony close. Feather-light kisses paint his throat as Jethro nuzzles in all spent and sated, his neediness still lingering.  
Tony can feel what’s coming and he hangs on.  
“Stay.”  
“Tony.”  
“Stay.”  
And Jethro does. Keeps their bodies pressed close despite the heat and sweat and mess, doesn’t pull out even though he’s going soft.  
This is the thing Tony fears he can’t stop, can’t let go of, can’t stop running after. He’s not afraid to say good night. He’s afraid that if he stays, he won’t be able to leave.  
When biology and inevitability finally collide, Tony sighs at the emptiness and gently relinquishes his hold.  
“Think we should find our bed. Get some sleep.” Jethro’s hand wanders lazily.  
Our. Little word, big step. Tony accepts it without comment. “Okay.”  
“Have to work in the morning.”  
“My boss is a tyrant. Better not make me late.”  
“Think he’ll be a little forgiving tomorrow.”  
They don’t bother to gather clothes, know they’ll be there in the morning. Gibbs bends naked to bank the coals of the fire and secure the screen in place while Tony appreciates the view.  
“Think we might need to throw this pillow out.” Tony holds it to his nose and then away with a satisfied smile.  
We. Not so hard. Maybe he can learn the steps to this dance after all.


End file.
